


Proud Kisses

by aislingdoheanta



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Grantaire, Gen, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingdoheanta/pseuds/aislingdoheanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has an art showing, sells a painting, and Enjolras kisses him. He's honestly more surprised at the selling than the kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Trope Bingo Square: Celebratory Kiss.
> 
> If you want to see my [Bingo Square.](http://saras-almanac.tumblr.com/trope-bingo)

“Come in!” Grantaire yelled around the paintbrush he was holding between his teeth at the knock on his studio door. He wasn’t expecting anyone; all his friends knew that he was currently freaking out about his gallery show in a week and he still had to finish this painting and _Jesus_ why did he decide on this theme again? Greek deities in modern era? It was stupid and it made no sense.

_Was there enough time to change it?_

“Grantaire?” Enjolras’ voice jerked him back to reality.

“Apollo? What are you doing here?” Grantaire asked after he got over the shock and took the paintbrush from his mouth. No one wanted to come and visit him a week before a deadline since he was all anxiety and stress and normally half-crazed because of equal parts sleep-deprivation and hyper-insomnia—it’s what Grantaire called it whenever he was too anxious or wired to sleep.

Enjolras, of all things, looked shy. He held glanced around at everything but Grantaire and shuffled his feet. “I figured you haven’t eaten anything and brought you something to eat.”

Enjolras nearly threw a bag at Grantaire. It had two sandwiches in it, granola bars, and some candy. Grantaire thought of all the time he’d brought Enjolras something to eat when he’d hole himself up at the Library in university or more recently at his office or in his bedroom to finish up whatever he was working on.

“Oh,” Grantaire said awkwardly. “Thanks. I hadn’t thought to go out and get something to eat today.”

Enjolras smiled. “I figured.”

“You drew the short straw?” Grantaire asked, unwrapping a sandwich and taking a seat on his stool.

“What?”

“No one else has stopped by, probably still scarred from all those times in university,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “I figured you guys talked about it and you drew the short straw of having to deliver the food.”

“I wasn’t forced to come here.” Enjolras rubbed the back of his neck and looked down again. “I wanted to check up on you.”

Grantaire felt himself freeze. “Oh.”

“It looks good,” Enjolras said after a minute, gesturing at one of his paintings. “Is it almost done?”

Grantaire sighed. “Yes. But I just…It doesn’t look like I was anticipating it.”

“I think it looks amazing,” Enjolras, his eyes like lasers meeting Grantaire’s own.

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said. “I wish I had chosen a different theme. Or something a little less obvious.”

He started pacing. “I mean, who does portraits and full scenes? I should have done something more modern, or maybe post-modern. Maybe something minimalist. People love those.”

“They’ll love these more.” Enjolras grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked hesitantly.

“Of course. Try not to stress so much,” Enjolras told him gently.

“That’s a bit like the pot, Apollo,” Grantaire said with a laugh.

“Well, this pot is willing to admit that they are fully aware that they are just as black as the kettle thanks to the kettle’s constant reminders,” Enjolras told him.

“Fair enough.” Grantaire laughed but was still intensely aware of how Enjolras hadn’t let go of his arm.

“You’ll get some sleep?” Enjolras asked, his hand tightening on Grantaire’s wrist.

“I don’t know if I can,” Grantaire admitted. “I’m too nervous for this showing.”

“Some rest than? Maybe go home for a bit of time?” Enjolras asked.

“I’ll rest.” Enjolras just raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll try to get some rest. All right, I promise!”

“On Saturday I will be coming to make sure you leave this studio,” Enjolras told him.

Grantaire can’t help but bait him a little. “What happens if I leave before then?”

“Then you’ll go out twice,” Enjolras said in his no nonsense voice.  

“What if I’m not finished yet?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras let his hand slip from Grantaire’s wrist to grab his hand. “You will.”

“You sound so confident,” Grantaire said.

“I am. I believe in you.” Enjolras squeezed his hand and slipped out before Grantaire really processed what he’d said to him.

Years ago, back when they were all still in university, Grantaire had said the same thing to Enjolras. It was strange—wonderfully and terrifyingly so—to hear those same words repeated back to him.

It was stranger yet that Grantaire actually believed them.

* * *

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Grantaire said the minute he saw Jehan, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, and surprisingly Enjolras walking up to him at his art showing.

Jehan hugged him tightly and smiled. “You’re not going to throw up.”

Grantaire felt his hands shaking. “Then I need a drink.”

“You don’t,” Jehan told him adamantly. “You’re going to be fine. You’re art is wonderful and everyone is here because they know it!”

Grantaire tried not to groan or cry or just throw up all over his friends. Joly hugged him and tried to ‘discretely’ check him over for any signs of the flu or, you know, an outbreak of the plague after Grantaire whispered that he felt like he was going to shake out of his skin or throw up or quite possibly die. Bossuet hugged him tightly and kept his arm around him as he retailed his tale of how he tripped as he was walking out of the café earlier today and spilled his freshly brewed coffee all over the sidewalk and, unfortunately, his shoes. Luckily, he’s friends with everyone at that café and they gave him a free cup of coffee without having the stamp card filled out.

“It was such a good day,” Bossuet had said. “Not everyone gets a free cup of coffee when they spill it. Isn’t that great?”

He was trying to both distract and cheer Grantaire up and it worked. Bossuet’s happiness was just infectious. Bahorel has said that to him once and had nearly given Joly a heart attack because he was concerned that maybe it was a symptom of a contagious disease. (Bossuet had good-naturedly gone through with most of the testing because it was Joly and he loved him. Besides, they did discover that he was slightly anemic, so it all worked out in the end)

Musichetta wound her arm through his and kissed his cheek, listening to Bossuet’s story again. Just having them there calmed Grantaire’s nerves tremendously.

“Courf just texted me,” Jehan announced after Bossuet’s story. “The rest of them are almost here. I’ll go wait for them outside.” They squeezed Grantaire’s wrist, gave Musichetta a pointed look, and then left to make their way outside to wait for the others.

“Right, we should go and get something to eat,” Musichetta said. “Bossuet hasn’t eaten anything lately.”

“I’m not sure what they have since I’ve been too nervous to eat,” Grantaire admitted. “But I know there is something.”

“I’m not entirely hungry,” Joly said.

“Then you should go to the bathroom,” Musichetta said, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” Joly said with his eyes wide. “I’ll be back.”

“So will we,” Musichetta said, grabbing Bossuet’s hand and following after Joly.

“Those three are in a world of their own sometimes,” Grantaire said with a fond smile.

“How are you doing?” Enjolras asked, taking a careful step toward him.

“Apart from feeling like I’m going to be sick all over your shoes?” Grantaire asked. “Just peachy.”

“Well, good thing these shoes are so old then,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire gaped at him. “Do my ears deceive me? Did Apollo just crack a joke?”

Enjolras smiled and looked down and Grantaire could swear his face had turned a little pink. “I _can_ make jokes, you know. I’m not a robot or marble statute, even though you enjoy comparing me to them.”

“That I know, leader of the Les Amis de l’ABC,” Grantaire laughed. “I still can’t believe you were the one who came up with that!”

Enjolras smiled and moved even closer to Grantaire and reached out to grab his shoulder. “You know that everything is going to be great, right?”

“I’m not as convinced as you are,” Grantaire said.

“You are incredibly talented, Grantaire,” Enjolras said softly. “All these people are here to see your artwork.”

“All these people are here for the free food and booze and to make themselves feel more important than they are as they look down upon the uncivilized lower classes and chat about their holiday plans and yacht buying and country villa purchases in Italy,” Grantaire corrected with a self-depreciating smirk.

Enjolras frowned at him. “Be that as it may, they’re still enjoying your art. Because you’re talented.”

Grantaire shrugged but didn’t stay anything.

Enjolras pulled Grantaire forward and hugged him. Grantaire would like to say he was awkward about it, but he wasn’t. In his head he was freaking out and incredibly confused, but his arms moved around Enjolras without hesitation because really, what else was he going to do?

“You’re going to be wonderful. Your art is amazing and this night is going to be just fine,” Enjolras said in a quiet, intimate voice. “Just try to keep breathing. You’ll get through it.”

Grantaire let out a shaky breath. “It’s a lot easier when you’re standing right in front of me reminding me of that.”

Enjolras tightened his arms. “That’s what it feels like whenever I give a speech or a presentation or stand in front of the courtroom. It’s always easier with your support system by your side.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said softly as Enjolras pulled away. “I’ve calmed down a lot since you guys walked through the door.”

Enjolras smiled at him. “It’ll get easier the longer you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Trust me,” Enjolras said.

“I always do,” Grantaire responded.

Everyone else arrived in a group and swarmed him. Courfeyrac hugged him. Combeferre clapped him on the shoulder. It looked like he was going to hug him, but Bahorel swooped in first and decided that he wasn’t going to let him go for a while.

That night went fine, just like Enjolras said it would. Grantaire was definitely less nervous with his friends all around because it was nice to know that there was always one person who genuinely cared about him close at hand.

And every time he started to get nervous or right after he talked to a potential buyer or patron, Enjolras was there to brush his hand along his back or grab his hand. It was a little strange, but Enjolras had been a little more tactile with him lately. Not to mention he was always so concerned with making his friends comfortable, so Grantaire didn’t really think much about.

To be honest, he was just incredibly grateful that Enjolras rarely strayed from his side that night.

* * *

“R?” Jehan’s soft voice questioned. “You okay?”

Grantaire shook his head, his phone still clutched tightly in his hand. “Someone bought a painting.”

“What?!” Jehan nearly screeched before they nearly tackled Grantaire in a hug.

Grantaire threw his arms around Jehan and could feel a grin nearly split his face. “I sold a fucking painting!”

Apparently, Jehan’s shout had caused everyone’s attention to fall to them. Courfeyrac had wandered over and heard Grantaire’s words and jumped onto Grantaire’s back as soon as he let go of Jehan.

“R sold a painting!” Courfeyrac shouted from his place on top of Grantaire.

Everyone swarmed Grantaire, hugging him and clapping him on the back. Bahorel even tried to pick him up and spin him, but it was too small of a space and Grantaire was so lost in his own head that he couldn’t really help. (Bahorel would later say that it felt like trying to twirl around a dead body because Grantaire wouldn’t help him at all. Joly asked him how he knew what it was like to spin a dead body)

The sea of people parted as Enjolras pushed his way to Grantaire, or maybe it was just Grantaire’s imagination. He grabbed Grantaire’s face and kissed him. Grantaire would have thought he was dreaming, but he’d heard the cheers of his friends and someone definitely pinched his side.

Enjolras pulled away and tucked himself into Grantaire and whispered, “I knew you’d sell something!”

Grantaire’s arms went around Enjolras but only on instinct. He was so confused and overwhelmed that he couldn’t even get his mouth to form words.

Eventually Enjolras let him go so Musichetta could attach herself to his side and decided that they all needed to go out and celebrate.

They all piled out of the Musain and waddled toward the Corinth a few streets over. Everyone was talking over everyone and it was difficult to make anything out, but it was fun and exciting and _holy shit_ he’d sold a fucking painting!

“To Grantaire! And his future as true artiste!” Courfeyrac shouted as they all stood around with their shots or drink in the case of Marius who was forbidden from doing tequila shots ever since the time with Cosette and the tree. No really wants Marius to tell them the details, but they also are incredibly curious about what the fuck happened between Marius and a tree.

Enjolras downed his shot, standing right next to Grantaire, keeping close just like he had since he’d announced the news. Grantaire raised his brow at him in question, watching as he winced.

Enjolras shrugged. “Can’t I celebrate with you?”

Grantaire just nodded and took a swig of the drink that Feuilly had ordered him when he got here. Enjolras smiled at him and wrapped his arm around Grantaire’s shoulders. Grantaire leaned into him and Enjolras squeezed his shoulder in response.

Grantaire drank and laughed and celebrated with his friends while Enjolras clung to him. He pretended it was completely normal for Enjolras to be cuddling up to him and resting his head on his shoulder.

Courfeyrac dragged Combeferre to the dancefloor after Cosette successfully convinced Marius to go with her. Jehan and Bahorel were doing a version of the young school-children, barely-touching and keeping at least three feet away because Bossuet thought it was the funniest thing. Joly was less dancing with Bossuet and more holding him as laughed.

“Do you want to dance?” Grantaire asked Enjolras. Enjolras shook his head.

Feuilly looked at them and then back to the dancefloor where Bahorel was waving him over. Musichetta and Eponine had moved over to surround Marius, whose face was now red and keeping his eyes completely fixed on the floor.

“I’m gonna head over before Bahorel gives himself an aneurism. Or accidentally takes Jehan out,” Feuilly said before walking over to the dancing group.

“I’ll dance if you want to,” Enjolras said quietly after a minute.

“It’s fine,” Grantaire said. Enjolras made a happy humming noise and reached for Grantaire’s hand even though he was still slightly wrapped around Grantaire.

“You know I’m so fucking proud of you, right?” Enjolras asked.

“Is that why you kissed me?” Grantaire asked, not entirely wanting to have this conversation.

“Well sort of,” Enjolras said as he pulled away. “But it was mostly because I just wanted to kiss my boyfriend.”

“As nice as it was, some warning would have been great,” Grantaire said with a smirk. And then he processed Enjolras’ words.

“Was it an unwelcome advance?” Enjolras asked at the same time Grantaire, “Boyfriend.”

“I just assumed,” Enjolras said, shaking his head. “I am so sorry, Grantaire. I got a little caught up in the moment and it’s no excuse and—“

Grantaire held a hand up to stop his rambling. “Boyfriend?”

Enjolras froze. “Yes, I thought so. Our dates had been going well and I just wanted to refer to you as something other than my Grantaire because it sounds too possessive.”

“Dates?” Grantaire asked.

“Yes,” Enjolras said slowly.

“How long have we been dating?” Grantaire asked him.

Enjolras frowned. “Since I asked if you wanted to get some dinner after the political documentary about the lives of the monarchy-ruled countries after regime changes.”

At Grantaire’s blank look, he continued. “About four months.”

Grantaire started laughing, clutching his side and feeling tears pool in his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Enjolras asked.

“I can’t…believe…we’ve been going out…for four months…and I didn’t know it!” Grantaire laughed out.

“Did you really not realize?” Enjolras asked after a minute.

“No! You think I’d have waited four months to kiss you if I had?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras smiled. “I did think it was odd since I’ve seen you kiss numerous people, some you’d just met. Combeferre suggested that you wanted to take things very slow because we were friends. Whatever the reason, we both agreed it was your choice to determine when you were ready.”

“So Combeferre knew we were going out before I did? Did anyone else?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras frowned. “Well, Courfeyrac definitely knows and I’m pretty sure everyone found out at your art showing with their perfectly timed exit.”

“Why didn’t they every say anything?” Grantaire asked.

“Well, I’m not a big fan of huge public displays of affection—“

“You say that as you’ve been hanging off my arm all night,” Grantaire teased.

“Well, it’s a special occasion and I think it’s okay to do in the right circumstances,” Enjolras defended.

“Wait,” Grantaire said, thinking back to the past months and how often the two of them had gone out and Grantaire had just assumed Courfeyrac had bailed or Combeferre ended up wanting to study. And all the times that Enjolras came to his studio with food or how happy he was whenever Grantaire would stop by to bring him some coffee or food. “We really have been dating for four months.”

“I had thought that was rather obvious what with my whole asking you on a date,” Enjolras huffed.

“You didn’t ask me on a date,” Grantaire corrected.

“I did,” Enjolras argued. “I asked if you wanted to have dinner with me.”

“That I would most definitely remember,” Grantaire said. “You asked me if I wanted to go and get some food because you were hungry. Very big difference.”

Enjolras took a step away from Grantaire. “Now that you know, though I still find it hard to believe that you had no idea, is it something you’d be amiable to?”

“Why don’t you ask out and find out?” Grantaire challenged.

Enjolras turned his stare on him, not breaking eye contact. “Would you like to go have dinner with me, officially as a date, and maybe consider being my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Grantaire said. He reached out and grabbed Enjolras’ shirt to pull him forward and kiss him the way he’d wanted to kiss him earlier but hadn’t realized he’d been allowed.

Enjolras pulled away, breathing a little heavily and his face flushed but his eyes looked like they were sparkling with happiness. So maybe Grantaire was a little dramatic, but he’d had a few drinks, was on cloud nine because he’d sold a fucking painting, and the man he’d lusted after for years and eventually fell in love with was standing in front of him wanting him.

“Are you sure of this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this because I thought we were already dating,” Enjolras said sternly.

“I’m absolutely sure,” Grantaire promised. “Though I do feel like I have a bit of ground to make up. Boyfriendly duties that I had been neglecting.”

“Like actually kissing me and wanting to have movie nights and other couplely things where you won’t ask me where Courf is or why Combeferre isn’t home?” Enjolras asked him, grinning at him.

“Exactly.” Grantaire proved his point by kissing him again. 


End file.
